


a little give 'n take

by rhysgore



Series: office affair [2]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Cock Warming, Extremely Dubious Consent, Humiliation, M/M, Mild Feminization, Oral Sex, Sexual Coercion, ya know........ just the usual biz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 23:25:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10627368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysgore/pseuds/rhysgore
Summary: “No need to get ahead of yourself, Sam. I was just trying to make you feel a little more comfortable here."-one month post-"jetstream", sam is having issues adjusting to his new work environment





	

**Author's Note:**

> look... i promised i'd write gore stuff next but this has haunted me for so long so here's more sugar daddy armstrong content from your favorite human waste receptacle
> 
> more or less a prequel to [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8784592)

Sam had been working for Desperado for around a month when he got the call.

 

In that time he’d been fitted with a shiny new prosthesis, met all of his new, weird coworkers, but hadn’t yet been given anything close to an actual mission- not even a basic, easy one. The lack of things to do and the fact that most of the other people at the PMC seemed to be avoiding him (not that he could blame them) was driving him up the wall with boredom.

 

It had seemed like it would be just another day of sitting in his quarters, maybe visiting the gym or taking another walk around the building, when his phone started ringing. When he picked up, after a whole ten seconds of wondering who the hell would possibly be calling him, Sam was greeted with Armstrong’s smug cadences. 

 

“Sam! How’re you doing?”

 

“I’m alright-”

 

Interrupting him, Armstrong kept going. “Listen, son, I’m a little busy right now, but I’d love to have a chat with you. How about you come up to my office in about an hour and we can talk. That sound good?”

 

It wasn’t a real question. “Yes, sir.”

 

“Good. See you then.” 

 

With a brusque click, the line went dead again, and Sam slumped back in his chair, rubbing his forehead. He wasn’t sure if the meeting warranted worry or not, but the phrase “have a chat” was vague enough that he felt it anyway. It was probably going to be about his lack of field work, and Sam didn’t have any way to explain that besides deflecting blame onto coworkers.

 

“Ugh,” he muttered.

 

-

 

An hour later, Armstrong’s secretary was buzzing Sam into his office, and Sam’s dread still hadn’t subsided. On one level, he supposed that made perfect sense- the last few times he’d seen Armstrong in person, Sam either been trying to kill the guy or recovering from injuries given by him. Most of the day-to-day delegation of tasks within Desperado was performed by the other Winds, or the higher ranked soldiers, since Armstrong was frequently occupied with the  _ other _ part of his career.

 

“Sam! There you are!” The man himself was relaxing at his desk when Sam entered the room, smoking a large cigar, and as Sam got closer, he held out the box, offering one. “Do you smoke, son?”

 

“No,” Sam replied, wrinkling his nose as he sat down on the chair that had been set up on the other side of the large desk. He’d always disliked the smell of tobacco, and the association with Armstrong hadn’t helped.

 

“Do you drink, then?” Armstrong gestured to a cabinet off to the side, filled with bottles of what was no doubt high quality,  _ expensive  _ alcohol.

 

“... No.” He did, occasionally, but being even vaguely inebriated in Armstrong’s presence wasn’t an appealing prospect. The pleasantries weren’t making Sam less on edge- quite the opposite. “You wanted to talk to me about something, if I remember correctly.”

 

Instead of seeming irritated or offended by the remark, Armstrong laughed. “No need to get ahead of yourself, Sam. I was just trying to make you feel a little more comfortable here. I never officially congratulated you on your employment, you know, and I just wanted to take a moment to say that I’m  _ very _ happy to have you working for us.”

 

“Ah.” Sam smiled, humorlessly. So  _ that  _ was how this meeting was going to go.

 

Still, taking time out of his schedule  _ just  _ to gloat didn’t seem typical of Armstrong, especially since he’d had plenty of time to gloat when Sam was still hospital-bound. There had to be another reason why he’d been called up here.

 

“You’re wondering why you haven’t been assigned any missions yet.”

 

“It  _ had  _ seemed a little odd to me, yes.”

 

“It’s not because I don’t think you’re capable. Far from it.” Armstrong took a long drag from his cigar, blowing a cloud of smoke up into the air over his head. “It’s the other Winds. They don’t trust you yet, Sam. They think you’re going to stab them in the back the moment you’re alone together off of Desperado-owned property, and frankly, I don’t blame ‘em. They’ve already got some  _ issues _ dealing with newcomers, and you haven’t exactly made the slightest fucking effort to try and boost camaraderie, you know.” 

 

That much was obvious. Sam hadn’t talked to his coworkers much, but his brief conversations with them had been enough to convince him that the other four Winds were completely bizarre, each in their own unique way.

 

“What do you want me to do about it?”

 

“The problem is, I don’t think  _ you  _ can, Sam. They’re not gonna trust you until you prove you’re willing to fight by their sides, and they’re not gonna let you fight by their sides until they trust you. It’s a real catch-22 we’ve found ourselves in.” He fell silent, and Sam leaned forwards by a degree. “But…”

 

“... But what?”

 

“They trust me,” Armstrong said, as if it was obvious. “If I told them you weren’t going to hurt them, and they should be utilizing your abilities as a partner, you’d be up to your ass in things to do.”

 

“So why haven’t you?” Sam’s brow crinkled in irritation. If the solution to both of their problems seemed so simple, why had Armstrong even needed to meet with him?

 

“Because, son, I don’t do shit like this for free. PR is a business that I’ve invested a lot of time and resources into, and if you want me to help you spin this, It’s gonna cost you.” Armstrong opened one of his desk drawers, fishing around in it for a moment before he found what he was looking for, and tossed it underhand to Sam, who caught it with a look of confusion. “I know you don’t have much in the way of cash, but I’m willing to offer an  _ alternate  _ payment plan.”

 

Sam looked at what Armstrong had given him, frowning as he turned it over in his hands. It was a cylinder, made out of black plastic, small enough that it could fit in his palm. It looked vaguely familiar, but Sam couldn’t quite place it until he spotted the small seam in the plastic, and twisted it open to reveal bright red inside- a tube of lipstick.

 

Knowing what it was didn’t make him any less confused, however. How exactly did Armstrong expect Sam to pay him using only lipstick? It wasn’t a particularly effective weapon, unless it was poisoned, or secretly some sort of powerful laser, and Armstrong had given him no indication that it was either.

 

“I was hoping you could do me a bit of a favor.” Armstrong stretched out, cracking his knuckles. “I travel a lot for work, you know, and my wife can’t always come with me. It’s a sacrifice I need to make in order to better this country, I know, but I still get a little lonely, you know.”

 

“How exactly do you expect me to help?” Sam raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You want to have a sleepover? Maybe watch a… movie...” 

 

The true of what Armstrong had said, the gift, the implications behind the word  _ favor,  _ all hit Sam like a ton of bricks. His smile slipped as he tried not to let the wave of pure disgust he felt show on his face, feigning ignorance instead, but part of it must have shone through regardless. Armstrong sighed in irritation

 

“Come on, I know you’re not that stupid,” he said. “You’re going to put that on, and then you’re going to suck me off, Sam.” The  _ or else _ wasn’t said, but the tone of Armstrong’s voice implied certain consequences. Consequences like the loss of more limbs, or possibly his life. Sam was under no impression that he was irreplaceable- his skills were significant, but not enough to justify keeping him around when he was going to be more trouble than he was worth. “Need a mirror?”

 

Stomach dropping, Sam nodded dumbly, and a handheld mirror was slid across the desk over to him. Picking it up, Sam turned away from Armstrong and uncapped the lipstick, spreading it over his lips in as smooth, even of a layer as could be reasonably expected. This wasn’t his first time wearing makeup, but every time previously  _ hadn’t _ been under possible threat of death.

 

When he turned back around, Armstrong beamed at him, sliding his chair slightly back. 

 

“Come here,” he said, and Sam stood, still not quite believing the situation he’d found himself in. It felt almost as if it wasn’t his body moving, but like he was watching himself move from the outside as he walked over to the opposite side of the desk and at Armstrong’s behest, sank to his knees, shuffling underneath it. “There’s a good girl.”

 

The comment wouldn’t have stung if it hadn’t been for Armstrong’s tone of voice, almost unbearably smug as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled down his fly, pulling his cock out of his underwear. Even half-hard, he was still  _ big,  _ and Sam gulped as a hand tangled in his hair, pulling him forwards until his mouth was pressed against the tip of it.

 

“Come on, sweetheart. Open up.” Slowly, with barely concealed disgust, Sam took the offered cock between his lips, sucking lightly. 

 

Surprisingly, Armstrong seemed to enjoy playing a more passive role, content to just sit back and watch Sam work. Equally surprisingly, that actually made it worse- Sam actually had to work to pleasure the man, and rather than being able to detach himself from the situation, it became uncomfortably personal. Regardless, he slid himself down Armstrong’s thick shaft, relaxing his throat. Armstrong seemed genuinely surprised by how deep Sam could take him without choking, grunting and shifting his hips forwards until the head of his dick pressed past Sam’s soft palate.

 

“Sucked a lot of cock before, huh?” He chuckled, patting the side of Sam’s face condescendingly. Sam didn’t respond except to run his tongue over the pronounced veins, staring up at Armstrong with a glare. There were tears beading up in the corner of his eyes from exertion, and his jaw was already aching as he swallowed Armstrong down to the root, lips pressing up against his pelvis. His lipstick was smudging, leaving red streaks on the shaft of Armstrong’s cock, and Sam could only imagine how his face looked right now. Probably debauched.

 

He pulled back, licking at the head teasingly as he took a second to catch his breath. As good as he knew he was at this, it was still difficult to deepthroat anyone for a long period of time, especially if they were on the larger side and didn’t particularly care about trying to be more gentle to his body. Sam traced his tongue down the thick shaft, letting it slide over his cheek at he worked at it, knowing it would make a pretty picture.

 

It was almost mechanical. There wasn’t any of the passion or excitement there that Sam would have devoted to a partner he actually cared about, trying to figure out what trick would make them moan the loudest. Instead, he tried to get it over with as quickly as he could, tensing his jaw to suck harder as he swallowed down again. The sooner Armstrong finished, the sooner Sam could get out of the office and pretend that none of this had ever happened.

 

When Armstrong finally came, he pulled out and spattered Sam’s face with it, groaning with satisfaction as he did. Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust, but didn’t say anything, enduring the final humiliation silently.

 

“Not bad, Sam,” Armstrong said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair and pulled another cigar out of his box, cutting the tip off and lighting it.Everything he did radiated smugness. Sam didn’t make even the slightest effort to contain his resentment as he tried to crawl out from under the desk, only stopping when Armstrong blocked him with a thick leg. “Uh-uh. Did I say you were done yet?”

 

“No, but  _ you _ seem to be,” Sam snapped, pointing at his face. 

 

Armstrong chuckled at that for a second, before lifting his foot and stomping down on Sam’s flesh hand. It wasn’t hard enough to break bone, but it  _ hurt,  _ especially when Armstrong twisted his heel, grinding Sam’s fingers against the stone floor.

 

“Fucking  _ hilarious. _ Unfortunately, I didn’t hire you to be a comedian.” Sam glared up at him, gritting his teeth as his fingers twitched under the patent leather shoe.  _ You didn’t hire me to suck your cock, either.  _ “Daddy’s got a phone call to make. Hold it in your mouth until I’m done.”

 

_ Daddy. _ Sam’s stomach churned as Armstrong lifted his foot, and swept him back under the desk. He eyed Armstrong’s crotch, keeping at arm’s length until a hand grabbed him by the hair, yanking him forwards, pulling until Sam took the soft cock into his mouth, until the tip of it rested just at the back of his throat.

 

“Atta girl.” The hand let go of Sam’s hair, patting his head again. There was a moment of silence before Sam heard a cell phone dial tone. “Hey, Barry. Just calling to talk some figures on that shipment I bought from you the other day…”

 

If Sam had thought having to take an active role in blowing Armstrong was bad, it was nothing compared to this. He knelt under the desk, unmoving while Armstrong talked business with whoever he was on the phone with. His knees hurt, his throat hurt, and his eyes and nose were leaking from the effort, smearing with the already messy coating of cum on his face. All he wanted was to be able to close his mouth- but if he bit down, or pulled off, he couldn’t even imagine what the consequences would be. 

 

It wasn’t just humiliating and painful- it was also incredibly boring. There was nothing for him to do, nothing to focus on except the taste and texture of the cock in his mouth, the scent of mixed cigar smoke and arousal, and Armstrong’s conversation, which after the first twenty minutes, faded to a dull white noise.

 

At about the forty-five minute mark, he could feel Armstrong’s cock start to perk up again in his mouth. He still didn’t move, except to accommodate it as swelled to full hardness, until a hand found his hair again, pushing him down. Jaw seizing up and leaking saliva down his chin and neck, Sam forced himself through the movements, lips sliding down Armstrong’s shaft with loud, sloppy noises.

 

His technique wasn’t particularly good, but Sam couldn’t help that. Fortunately, Armstrong seemed to be perfectly fine with taking control this time, hips jerking and hand firmly at the back of Sam’s head, fucking his face the best he could in the position he was currently in. Sam's body rejected the rough treatment, gagging, and he had to clench his hands into fists to prevent himself from throwing up, convulsing every time Armstrong's cock forced itself into his throat.

 

Armstrong was still on the phone, and the only indication of his climax that he made was a slight groan as he pulled back so only the tip was in Sam’s mouth, and came, enough that Sam’s tongue was coated in semen, and it leaked out the corners of his aching lips. 

 

_ At least his cum doesn’t taste any worse than anyone else’s, _ Sam thought, a moment of clarity in the midst of him coughing as he swallowed down what he could. He didn’t want any more of it getting on his face than had to, and he didn’t think Armstrong would take too kindly to him spitting it out on the floor.

 

He felt disgusted, and disgusting. Debased, violated, and used, sticky with saliva and cum, almost every part of him in pain either from Armstrong’s rough treatment, or just from being forced to stay in one uncomfortable position for such a long time. As he waited for Armstrong to get off the phone, Sam wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, cleaning off a bright pink mixture of lipstick and semen as he did so. With a sneer, he wiped it off on his shirt, making a mental note to burn the clothes he was wearing later.

 

“... Yep. Sounds great. I have to go take care of some other business, but this was a real help. Talk to you soon.” With a few phoned-in pleasantries, Armstrong hung up on whoever was on the other end of the line, and rolled his seat back slightly, smirking as he took in the man between his legs. “Well, look at you. Who’d’ve thought such a fearsome warrior would turn out to be such a cheap little slut, huh?” 

 

Taking Sam’s jaw in hand, he turned Sam’s head back and forth, admiring his handiwork- the running nose, watery eyes, smudged makeup, and cum drying all over Sam’s pretty face.

 

“Will that be all?” Sam asked, venomously, teeth grinding.

 

“Hm. For now.” The moment Armstrong moved his legs, Sam was crawling out from under the desk, scrambling to his feet. His joints cracked as he stood, and started to stalk out of the room. He had to get somewhere with a shower before anyone saw him like this and wondered for more than a second what he had just been up to. “Hope we can figure out  _ mutually beneficial _ shit like this in the future, Sam.”

 

Sucking a breath through his clenched teeth, Sam slammed the door behind him. He didn’t want to even consider what Armstrong had meant by that.

**Author's Note:**

> boi i die
> 
> [tumblr](rhysgore.tumblr.com) | [twitter](twitter.com/maverickminuano)


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